Paradoxal Suicide - Chapter 1
by upinspace1700
Summary: I can't tell you a story like this with the classic 'Once upon a time' scenario...Because this story isn't any fairytale, it doesn't have a happy ending or even a happy beginning. A story about death can't. So I'm going to start this story with a simple truth; the world was ending.


As per usual this involved OCXCanon, AustriaXPrussia, and USUK. Please don't be turned away by that, do what I used to do with books; Put your name instead of the person in there, that way, _you _get to date Scotland!

_ I _don't own Hetalia, that belongs to Funimation and such.  
This is purly fiction, and I_ also don't own the concept of Avalon_

Chapter 1-

I can't tell you a story like this with the classic 'Once upon a time' scenario...Because this story isn't any fairytale, it doesn't have a happy ending or even a happy beginning. A story about death can't. Once upon a time the spirits of the tortured-to-death warriors of Avalon began taking over people's souls and brains and forcing them to tear their best friends to pieces. Seems legit, don't you think?

I do too.

So I'm going to start this story with a simple truth;

The world was ending. Any idiot could tell you that, with buildings been torn from the earth they stood upon, foundations crushed like the bones of a bird under a tonne of bricks. Meteors started hitting in the year 7661, a year now recalled as 'Contritio', which means destruction in Latin, to me and you. Our story begins 5 years after Contritio...Year 7666.

So with that, I must warn you, for what you are about to witness, is something that will be imprinted into your mind forever, hopefully unlike it was imprinted into mine.

Austria knew that this was literally his only path of survival, he knew that with every cell that made up his body, but he just...Couldn't accept it;

Going through a portal into an alternate universe? Seemed legit, to him, but of course, after watching nearly everyone he knew and loved be crushed or starve to death at his feet, blood smeared into the dirt and excruciatingly loud screams and cries of agony and mourning wracking through the atmosphere, this was the best place to go, if given opportunity.

And he had been given opportunity, along with 8 of the other remaining countries, which had been chosen to go in a rather bias way; A personal decision of who would actually be of use, and favrotisim.

Holy Rome, having made the decision, had chosen this rather random group of people;

Italy

Germany

Ireland

Wales

Scotland

Austria

Prussia

England, and America.

He had chosen the said countries, for the reasons presented below:

Italy - He's his grandson, what kind of heartless bastard lets his grandson die?

Germany- For the power of the group, since the others were either pathetic, or had given up. In some special cases, both. Most of them were plain stupid, too, so would need guidance. That, or to be smashed into sense.

Ireland, Wales -For what the Roman Empire described as, 'Pleasurable Reasons'. I'm quite sure you can process that for yourself.

Scotland- He could make more do from smashed bottles than a dark alleyway behind a bar.

Austria- Tragic piano solo's, and the fact that he and Prussia were his yaoi OTP.

Prussia- That sword really is awesome, and if he died and left it just...Lying around, Holy Rome would have gained something from that.

England, and America.- His SECOND OTP. He could watch them whilst singing, "I'm totally gay for the US of A!" in heaven.

He could have picked a more orderly group of people which might have included Japan or Russia, but he told me that it simply didn't, 'Hassle his Hoff', so I left it at that.

Anyway, this particular brunette was dragging his heels miserably behind him, his eyes darting back to the side, and the only thing stopping him from whipping round and throwing himself back into the chaos, the pain and agony, back to Hungary...Who he had been forced to leave behind, was Prussia's gentle grip on his left hand, and the force of holding the tears back in his throat. He wished he could just collapse, just give up and sob pitifully, bury his face in the dirt. It was dirt, but it was HIS dirt, it was HIS country, where he belonged, the island that had been trusted upon him, and he was turning his back on the loyalty of his army, of Hungary, the friends he had made...His piano...Mozart's Fan Book...

"Hey, Austria? You moving or what?"...The country hadn't realised just how slow a pace he had managed to adapt to walking at, and his boyfriend had advanced to about three feet away from his side. Austria shook his head, which was quite a paradox, since he practically ran beside Prussia again, who squeezed his hand.

"No one blames you" He said, repeating what he had said so many times before, in vain attempts to keep Austria...Well, alive.

Despite how loud Prussia was usually, his voice was probably the greatest comfort to the country at the given time, despite the fact that he sounded somewhat like an America-Germany love-child with a seriously sore throat (According to the author, who may I remind you, considers Prussia just as awesome as he makes himself out to be on a daily basis).

Then, the voice of Prussia's brother was heard, and an arm was waved at the pair.

"Come on, move yourselves; We've lost enough ground already, and Wales isn't exactly any better at navigating in the dark"

A growl was heard from the insulted country, and she flashed Germany a certain finger gesture, before turning back to the small tablet-like contraption she was looking at, and she poked the screen angrily.

"Calm down, West, it's only like, 3pm..." The albino objected, although he sped up to catch up to the advancing group, pulling Austria along after him.

As they approached, Austria was reminded just how may people had been chosen to actually LIVE...Ireland, the tall girl with the long dark chestnut hair, which was pulled neatly into a french braid, as per usual. America and England, the two who hadn't left each other since Contritio had begun. His brother, Germany, who of course was ordering everyone around, waving his arms, trying to keep track of everyone...And attempting to stop Italy from cutting off the blood circulation in his right arm. Italy, the boy with the single curl in his hair and the frail figure, hands trembling as he huddled close to the bulk of the group, asking Germany just what was happening at a rapid pace, only to be shushed. The group had stopped several times to console the shivering country, who had just stood and cried, repeating that he didn't see the point, asking why, calling for Romano...

His older brother had been left behind, refusing to leave his country. He apparently wasn't 'Pathetic', and was standing by those who had stood by him, despite the inevitable. He had been offered to go with the others by his grandfather, of course, but he had curtly pushed everyone away, out of 'Arrogance' and 'Self-pride', according to Germany, which was an ironically hypocritical statement to make, because his own self pride couldn't have been broken if he was forced to watch his own country be blown out of the sky, the black and yellow of his striped flag replaced with red, the blood of who his decisions had destroyed over the years, but no one dared to tell him that, not unless they wanted to greatly speed up to their final hour.

The blonde in question gave a grunt as he snatched the system from Wales's palms, and the brunette snarled at him, her hair whipping Scotland in the face as she turned to him.

"Hey! I could do it! You're just so impatient"

"You're too slow. You're in no hurry to escape to the new world; You'd rather watch everyone die than hurry yourself up? Stupid girl!" he yelled in response, icy eyes glazed over in irritation, and a small spark of panic.

"You think I don't care? You're not the only one leaving something behind, you selfish prat!"

"Don't argue with me, Wal-"

"Shut the hell up, go home, and plan out a final solution- for us!" she roared, eyes blazing in raw fury. Ireland watched with her head low, twirling the curls at the end of her braid around her fingers, hazel eyes scanning the footprints on the ground, and she looked up just to see Wales spit at Germany's feet before padding next to Ireland and leaning against one side of the huge, damp silver slabs of stone that built the arch they were stood in. There had been several forks in the seemingly endless path, and they had found dead ends at all but this one, and Germany was convinced that they should have reached the portal by now.

America and England were the quietest for once, America sucking quietly on a lolly-pop in an attempt to distract himself from the current situation, only breathing the occasional few words to England, who nodded or didn't respond himself. The blonde looked close to fainting, his face pale and his hands crossed over his stomach, eyebrows knitted together as he examined his boots.

Light was scarce, and the flickering flames of the occasional torch didn't cover a lot of the ground they were stood on. Droplets of water let go of the arched ceiling, and eminated a bluish glow around the tunnel, and a droplet dripped into Ireland's right palm before Germany shoved the small device into her hand, "You do it; I obviously can't" he spat, shooting a glance at Wales, who took Ireland's hand and looked at the screen, watching as Ireland's thin fingers tapped at the screen.

"We...We are going the right way...We're only 50 metres away from the portal to the Avalon, actually..." the girl remarked, and Wales couldn't help but let out a victorious, "HA!" to Germany, who threatened to shove her, had Ireland not have grabbed his left hand, showing him the screen.

"Look, that's us, the portal is the yellow shape. We're only 50 metres away; nearly there" she explained in attempts to calm the aggravated nation, who gave a single nod to her, pulling his hand away and pointing. "Get moving then" he growled, and Ireland rolled her eyes. She loved him, she always would, but sometimes, it was like raising a child. An extremely difficult one.

Scotland ran a hand along one wall as he looked around only to see the exact same scenery as he had almost the whole trip, and he only just really said something as he noticed a strong blue aura along a curve in the road, and he pointed, turning around to face the group:

Germany had finally given in, and was holding the right hand of Ireland, who had linked arms with his girlfriend, Wales, who was talking quietly to Ireland. Austria and Prussia looked over at him, Austria's tired eyes almost pleading, and England, who had covered his mouth with a finger, green eyes searching for a sanctuary, for a resolution to the problems. America took his lolly-pop stick out of his mouth to pay attention, and everyone looked.

"Uh, I think ahv' found it, the portal, I mean..." the red-head explained, stepping aside and pointing to the glowing curve, and a few of them actually smiled, and Ireland gave a small laugh,

"Nice one, Alister!" the brunette called, and she pulled Germany and Wales after her as she ran to check it all out, the others padding after her like sick puppies.

"He's right!" Wales announced as they were presented with a huge stone arch, words and patterns carved into it, a web of blue strung between it's loop, and Ireland didn't waste time;

"Who's first?"

It seemed that no one really wanted to wait here any longer either, because Austria stepped forward, releasing Prussia.

"I...I'll go" he offered, and everyone nodded, stepping back for him, and the country climbed the few stone slabs that lead to the portal, and he stood there for a second, and he...Saluted.

"Goodbye Hungary, I'm so sorry...", and he stepped in, a sort of electric pulse emanating from the portal as he disappeared into Avalon, and Prussia ran after him, yelling his name, before America laughed;

"Bro, that's awesome!" he yelled, pulling England up after him and leaping through the ring, England whimpering in protest. Scotland looked over to Wales, who took Ireland's hand.

"Together?"

"Like always" she replied, and the girls stepped through, leaving just Scotland and Germany.

"I didn't mean it to her like that, I was just-" Germany mumbled, recalling his recent screaming and yelling fit with Wales.

"I know...None of us can be blamed fer' how we behave now...You're just keepin' us all in order, eh?"

"I can't even do that anymore..." Germany mumbled, pushing Scotland's comfort away just as it was offered, and the blonde stepped aside,

"I'm supposing everyone is fine on the other side"

"They must be..." Scotland breathed, and stepped over to the parallel universe then, leaving Germany, who looked back before stepping in after him, brushing his hair back into place with his fingers before he took one last look at the world, and saluted .

"For the world" he claimed, and turned, walking into the new 'haven'.

They all should have just stayed where they were and waited to die with the people they loved.


End file.
